


Don't you look good on the dance floor

by orphan_account



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Dancing, Fluff, M/M, Oral, specialised interfacing equipment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 18:06:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4029559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[*EDIT* fixed the problem, rest of the first chapter is there now. I don't know why it just disappeared, it was there last night when I posted it!]</p><p>Aboard the Vis Vitalis, Rung just wants to dance with somebody.<br/>(smut in the second chapter, the first chapter is just lovely innocent fluff. Second chapter is diabolical)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Posting this off my phone, wish me luck!

When people started to remember his name, Rung thought the days of being involuntarily idled on the sidelines were over. He’d asked for Nautica’s permission to sit down and she’d shrugged in a polite but uncaring manner, and shuffled across the bench, closer to Nightbeat to accommodate Rung. He was a skinny mech, he absorbed a meagre amount of the bench. What Nautica had offered up could’ve seated two of Rung’s skinny rear, but she didn’t take back the space.

“This is nice,” Rung said to the line of people sitting next to him, none of whom replied. Nightbeat would appear to strongly disagree with that statement, he rolled his helm back and hissed at the ceiling.

Feeling a little stilted, Rung resolutely pushed his practiced and amiable smile onto his face and aimed it at the crowds, taking in the pleasant atmosphere and the warm lick of high grade tickled his tanks. It filled Rung with a bubbly energy he’d eagerly burn up on the dance floor if given the opportunity. Granted, it had been millennia since he worked the dance floor with a strut and peacock’d like a pro, but he was sure dancing was like riding a bike - the skill could get a little rusty but it was never forgotten.

The dance floor was heaving with excitement, the strobe lights bounced off people’s plating in interesting and mysterious flares. Rung wriggled in his seat. Getaway was making eyes at everybody, luring people in with the fancy tricks of his helm headlamp that entertained the easily intrigued. Whirl’s lanky limbs had a will of their own and flailed madly as he attempted a form of dance Rung branded as involuntarily interpretive. And Tailgate careered round the floor like a spinning top on his hoverboard, amazing their hosts with boisterous stunts. Everyone was mingling, everyone was getting along and, as much as people watching was one of Rung’s favourite hobbies, maybe he was little envious of the people enjoying themselves on the dance floor. But Rung was not without friends, and he looked to one of them, hoping to catch Skids’ eye and tempt him over. The smile on Rung’s face got a little tighter, his leg started to jig, Skids was talking to someone else.

His company was a resident of the Vis Vitals, someone Rung didn’t recognise and their hand was daintily set upon Skids’ shoulder. Which was fine! Good for Skids making new friends, he’d surely tell Rung all about it when they next met up at Swerve’s bar. Although there may not be a lot to discuss, as Rung avidly watched their exchange. The tension in his body ratcheted up, his jaw set tight, if only he could lip read. Before his intense observation could be booked, a distraction saved him.

Drunk on the haze and the ambience (and the high grade) Tailgate came spinning out of the crowd and toddled over to the four people relaxing on the sidelines. He shuffled straight past Rung, making a b-line for Cyclonus and begged him to dance. The rejection sent pangs of sympathy to Rung’s spark. Tailgate was crestfallen and moped, but he bounced back soon enough, he was brimming with liquid courage and moving his feet in a hectic tap dance when he rejoined the crowd.

Rung steeled himself, his eagerness pulling back his lips, revealing toothy desperation as he twisted to face Nautica and Nightbeat directly, the burning question hanging off his tongue.

“Would you like to”-

“That’s it! I can’t cope!” Nightbeat boomed above the music and shoved off the bench. He wasn’t interested in dancing, or even staying in the room and soon he was convincing Nautica that she had better places to be as well. Rung felt helpless, the confidence he’d dredged up was thwarted mercilessly and his spirits crashed.

Another contender arrived in front of him, Firestar. She was tall, handsome and commanded the attention of Nautica and Nightbeat effortlessly. They followed her as Rung followed the bold lines crafting Firestar’s frame. He watched them escape and then stared down the vacant line of the bench to Cyclonus, who looked sullen and unapproachable. Rung was stranded. His spark sunk as he sighed, the smile melted off his face easily and his rolled his thumbs. Maybe this just wasn’t his night, or maybe not much would ever change for Ring as some habits were too hard to break, and Rung was too accustomed to sitting quietly. 

“Hey Eyebrows, what’re you doing sitting all by your lonesome.”

Rung’s head snapped up, his small mouth rounding in wonderment.

“Oh! Skids!” Rung pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “I - I was just”-

“Come dance with me!” Skids flicked out his arm, holding it under Rung’s chin, inviting him to take it.

Rung’s hands flapped in midair, hovering tentatively, nervously.

“I-I’m not much of a dancer I”- His slim hand was snatched suddenly and crushed with the force of Skids eagerness. He yanked Rung to his feet.

The momentum carrying Rung and his genial surprise made him stumble. There was a puddle of spilled engex that sabotaged Rung’s footing, one leg slipped wide and he clashed awkwardly with Skids’ chest, bumping his nose.

“Woah, there,” Skids’ caught Rung, his strong hands pressing into Rung’s skinny arms and holding him steady, “You okay Rung, you feeling a little squiffy?” Skids reached under Rung’s chin and cupped it, tilting his head back

Rung was fiercely flustered by Skids’ smirk.

“You reek of high grade!” But it made Skids’ engine run warm and Rung could feel it thrumming under his hands.

“Sure do! You doin’ okay? You looked a bit glum when I came over.”

“Oh…did I? Umm, no, no, just a little overwhelmed,” his own toned questioned his alleged emotions. Skids was fighting a smile by rolling his lips under his denta.“What?”

“Nothing! Come on.”

Rung was perfectly capable of walking, far more able than Skids, who sashayed through the crowd, bumping elbows with the other dancers and tugging Rung along behind him by the hand.

At the middle of the dance floor the heat was at it most intense and Rung could feel it filling his cheeks as he started to sway. Skids bent his elbow and waved Rung’s about in the air, finger tips skimmed softly across Rung’s waist and generated that not so unfamiliar flirtatious energy that made Rung’s spark throb.

“Come on Eyebrows!” Skids chimed, “Dance!”

The fingers on Rung’s waist tightened and he was lifted without a choice or care. His small, limp body crushed to Skids’ chest, legs dangling and swinging with the fast motion of Skids’s spinning. They twirled round the dance floor, and even though Rung was clinging on tight, he needn’t as Skids refused to let go of him.

As hilarity and happiness made the nervous energy trapped in Rung burst, he squeezed Skids tighter, threw his helm back to face the wildly flashing disco lights, and laughed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smutty chapter with specialised interfacing equipment.

It had started with few teasing tugs and bumps on the dance floor, one foolhardy, undeniable grind and suddenly Rung’s interface was throbbing. He’d been fighting back the sensations all night, but the indomitable rhythm of the music kept pushing them together. Amid all the people filling the dance floor Rung didn’t want to seem _easy,_ but it was easy in another kind of way. Skids was so willing to be kissed. He squashed Rung’s waist in his hands, tugged him possessively close and Rung was powerless to resist temptation, which he had inadvertently initiated. 

Rung’s tongue slipped between Skids’ teeth. Skids lips were soft and moulded naturally to the shape Rung’s. For a moment, Rung could trick himself into thinking he didn’t care who was watching. His thighs were trembling, head buzzing with excitement, and the taste of Skids’ lips lingered on his tongue. It was a heady indulgence that sadly couldn’t last, and Rung soon felt the hands of self consciousness creep up his spine. He eased back, stifling breath getting trapped in his throat. 

Skids was curious and his desire to continually please Rung had taken them off the dance floor hand in hand. On the strange ship, the Vis Vitalis, they found a secret and cosy space where Rung was soon spread out on his back and his lanky legs kicked high in the air. 

“Skids!” He was trying desperately to be quiet and failing. His face was so hot, wild impulses charged straight to his interface, which was only a breath away from Skids’s mouth. 

“What?” Skids was grinning again, and swept his tongue across his teeth in a lewd proposition. 

“Y-You won’t like it.” 

Skids frowned, 

“Huh?”

“I’m _old,_ Skids, I haven’t done this since…since they brought out the New Mods.” As part of his occupation, Rung talked about interfacing all day everyday, but such talk was strictly private and maintained in a sensible environment. With these wild circumstances heckling Rung’s rationale, he couldn’t do anything except cup his face and hide in embarrassment. The New Mods weren’t new anymore - Rung was just,

“Oh so you’re _retro_?” Rung peeped through his fingers. In an effort to tempt Rung out of his shell, Skids nibbled on his stomach and the metal twitched and tickled, “Stop worrying Eyebrows! I’ve never been with an old-school mech before but I’m sure it won’t be too hard to figure out! Besides, now that you’ve mentioned it, I’m kinda curious.” 

Before the old, ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,’ cliche could spout out of Skids, Rung wriggled his aft and revealed something highly complex, but it was as pristine as the day it was installed millennia ago. Skids optics dilated and he revelled in the discovery. There were two shallow sockets meant for a partner’s plugs embedded in a line, and one much deeper hole that was about a fingers width. Two bulbs framed the interface and they flickered when Skids chuffed cool air against the circuitry. Stimulation triggered a reaction. Not only did Rung whine, but rubber sacks started to inflate. As their dark bodies grew, they covered the interface as they were designed to protect the circuitry from static discharge released during overload. Once they were fully inflated, Skids likened them to ultra thick valve lips. The sacks quivered as Rung panted, when  Skids traced the tip of his finger down the crease of the expanded sacks Rung mewled.

“Oh dear.”

“Heh, heh. So how do you normally go about using this thing?”

“You mean how do I…?”

Skids bit his lip and nodded, of all the times for him to turn shy. But Rung guessed what he was referring to. Interfacing may have become infrequent, but Rung maintained himself in other ways. There were an array of trinkets Rung had accumulated during his bolder exploits, knowledge of their existence Rung shared with no one. On quiet evenings he’d treat himself, plug into his favourite toy, the one with the wireless remote, and pump himself full of current, amp up his charge over and over again with the help of a myriad of settings until he peaked. The comedown was always bliss. 

But as that little luxury wasn’t available presently and as Skids had nothing suitable to plug in with, Rung proscribed the next best thing. 

“I-it works best with friction.”

“Show me.” 

Rung’s chest shook, caught between a laugh and nervousness. For Skids’ education, Rung’s hand slid steadily down his lithe body. Arching his back was for theatrics. Rung wasn’t explicitly proud of his design but he would make the most of it. His tapered fingers split apart the crease of the inflated lips and he toyed with the first bulb. The little light flickered as Rung circled it softly. Inspired, Skids grunted and Rung’s legs were hooked across his shoulders. Skids’ nose pressed between Rung’s lips, their spongy mould curving to his cheeks as he inhaled the smell of oil and grease and _Rung._

Anybody could’ve been wandering in the hallway at that moment. Rung chewed his knuckle to control the sounds flurrying in his chest but he could do nothing except be aroused by the purposely loud slurping sounds Skids made as he lapped over the tingling sockets. 

The pent up bundles of energy buried at the base of each socket were swollen. Overload was like a tight ball squeezed into Rung’s guts. He hooked his legs round Skids’ head and jerked forward and felt Skids nose brush Rung’s deepest port, soon to be replaced by a softly worming finger. The channel wasn’t flexible like a valve, Skids could only slide his index finger in and out, in and out, until he felt Rung start to get oily inside. In and out. 

Rung was still stroking sensuous circles round and around the smooth curve of the top bulb while Skids managed to prod its bottom counterpart with his thumb. 

“ _oooo_ ,” Rung was getting restless, “Tongue me,”

Skids had never expected to here such an expression come from such a mild-mannered mech. He took his hands to Rung’s aft and hoisted him off the floor. Saliva poured off his tongue  and was smeared round the circumference of the bottom socket first before his tongue stretched to the top outlet nearest Rung’s busy fingers. 

The stickiness of the drool thickened in Rung’s joints and the noises and curses blackening Rung’s lips were less restrained. Skids glanced up, peeping over the curve of Rung’s torso. 

“Don’t stop!” The smaller mech howled, his helm was thrown back, optics online but infused with static. Skids noticed Rung started tapping the top bulb harder, rubbing with more force and then flicking at it. He wasn’t being gentle anymore and so neither was Skids. 

The superfluous charge pooling at the base of Rung’s shallow interface sockets was mopped up by Skids’ tongue, and delivered to the deepest of the three holes. Energy instantly fired back at him from deep within Rung’s core and Skids tongue, thought it was almost numb, wormed deeper, touched and lapped against the warmth inside Rung’s tight, oily channel. 

Rung’s leg kicked out and struck Skids’ back. He groaned, threatening to overload on Skids’ face. But after all his hard work, Skids didn’t consider that a punishment. His tongue pumped in and out of Rung, until he felt Rung get tense under his hands. Then he pulled back sharply, his thick tongue releasing from inside Rung with a vulgar slurp. Skids’ helm forced Rung’s hand aside and his lips tightened over Rung’s favoured bulb, lashing it with his tongue as his hands spread open Rung’s thick lips and his thumbs pressed down on the bottom node also. 

Rung’s fingers clenched round Skids’s helm and after another firm squeeze on his top node, with a open mouthed whine, Rung came. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, not a great ending I know >.> Sorry!! But hooray for Rung getting muched!!


	3. Chapter 3

Hiya, I just wanted to say I screwed up somehow when I first posted this (I posted it off my phone) and for some reason I cut off most of the first chapter. No idea what happened or why. Anyway problem's fixed now. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this, there's a whole lot more like it on my Tumblr :)


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